She transferred the money to her wallet, rang the maid to send up some coffee, and headed for the shower. She had a big day of shopping ahead.
Having grown up in Beverly Hills, Aster knew plenty of boutiques that would’ve worked, but she wanted a place with no connection to her mom. Luckily, her mom never set foot inside Neiman’s (she was devoted to Saks), which was how Neiman’s became Aster’s first choice.
She left her car with the valet and headed up the escalator, where she perused the endless racks of dresses, perfectly content to browse for as long as it took. When it came to serious shopping, she preferred to go it alone. She’d yet to meet a salesperson who didn’t try to impress their personal taste onto her.
She dragged her haul into a fitting room and breezed through a pile of sexy bodycon dresses until she’d narrowed it down to one absolute fave and two backups. She was just about to change and head down to the shoe department when she overheard a girl in the next room say, “You’ll never guess who’s here! It’s that guy from that TV show. You know, that one with the green eyes and jeez, I can’t believe I forgot his name—he dates Madison Brooks.”
Aster pressed against the door, her heart beating frantically. “Ryan Hawthorne,” she whispered, waiting for the girl’s friend to confirm it.
“Ryan Hawthorne?”
“Yes, and he’s right downstairs. Probably buying something for Madison.”
“If his show gets axed, that’ll be his last gift to her in a while.”
They both laughed.
“You have to see him. He’s even cuter in person.”
“On it. I don’t want these jeans anyway. They give me mom butt.”
Before Aster could hear any more, she was slipping out of her dressing room wearing the sexiest of the three dresses and heading downstairs. Unfortunately, the girl had failed to mention where Ryan was, but if he really was shopping for Madison, then he was either in cosmetics, handbags, or jewelry . . . which made for a lot of square footage to search.
She crept past the fragrance counter, made a detour past a pile of Prada bags, and was just veering toward a display case of statement necklaces when she realized the girl must’ve been wrong. With his signature tousled blond hair, tanned skin, and green eyes, Ryan Hawthorne was impossible to miss, and from what Aster could see, there wasn’t a single guy in the store who could nail Ryan’s golden-boy look. Though there were plenty who tried.
It was too good to be true. She cast a last look toward the jewelry counter as she made her way toward shoes, spotting a guy about Ryan’s height with Ryan’s tight build, wearing a black beanie and dark sunglasses. Of course Ryan wouldn’t head out without some sort of disguise. Even in a store that was used to dealing with celebrities, there were bound to be a few tourists who wouldn’t think twice about mobbing him. And yet, despite his attempt to go incognito, the longer Aster watched, the more she grew convinced it was him.
Even from a distance she could tell he really was cuter in person. But more important, he was wrapping up the transaction, which meant he could leave at any second. She had to act fast.
Grabbing the first Manolos within reach, she slid one onto her foot and stood before the mirror, angling her leg in a way that inched the dress higher, as she waited for Ryan Hawthorne to breeze past.
Only he didn’t breeze past.
He stopped in his tracks and lifted his sunglasses high onto his head to admire the view. Not exactly a cool move for a guy who was known to be dating Hollywood’s It Girl, but for Aster, it was a sign as good as any that she was on the right track.
The job, the dress, the shoes, it was all about to lead somewhere good. Ryan’s blatant look of unadulterated male appreciation was enough for Aster to screw up enough courage to say, “Should I buy them?” She inched the dress higher.
“They’ve got my vote.” Ryan’s voice was throaty and tight, as he lost the battle to stifle the grin that took over his perfectly chiseled face.
She moved her gaze over his famously ripped and cut body, currently clad in jeans and a T-shirt. Her pulse thrummed, her hands started to shake, yet she still managed to look into the mirror and say, “Mmm . . . I don’t know . . .” She swiveled her hips from side to side, all too aware of Ryan grinning like a fool who needed to move on but was completely unable to do so.
“I feel like I can’t go until I see how this ends,” he said, oblivious to the swarm of salespeople and shoppers beginning to gather, instinctively drawn to the scent of a scandal in the making.
The last thing she wanted was to get Ryan in trouble with the press, much less Madison, who she desperately needed and pretty much worshipped. Still, she wasn’t about to let the opportunity slip. Fate had put Ryan into her path; it was up to her to make the most of it.
“Well, you could always swing by Night for Night tomorrow night and see what I decide. If I buy them, I’ll wear them. . . .” She swiveled again, flashed him her most seductive head-shot grin. Deciding it was better to leave him wanting more, she shot one last flirtatious look over her shoulder and headed for her dressing room. So taken by the excitement of what just occurred she could barely contain herself. It wasn’t her first celebrity encounter, but it was the first one that mattered.
If she knew anything about men, especially spoiled, entitled men (and wasn’t she practically an expert, having spent an entire lifetime surrounded by them?), she knew for a fact that theirs was an encounter he would not soon forget.
It was just a matter of time before he came to the club, and if he showed up with Madison, even better. Either way, victory was about to be hers.
SIXTEEN
BLURRED LINES
Madison Brooks lay curled on her side, sheltered by the shade of a large umbrella, enjoying the view of her infinity pool and the way it seemed to drop straight into the canyon beyond. After her luxurious closet, her backyard was her second favorite place on her property. As a child growing up thousands of miles from any piece of land capable of supporting a palm tree, her tropical paradise was yet another symbol of how far she’d come.
It was her first free day in . . . well, it’d been so long she couldn’t remember when she’d last enjoyed a Saturday without at least one meeting, fitting, or script to read. But with the day stretching out before her like a delectable buffet with unlimited offerings, she was content to remain right there on the chaise, reveling in the fact that she had absolutely nothing to do and nowhere to be.